But for Us
by Melephant
Summary: A fun story that will gradually get more complex when I find the time and motivation. My friends liked it, and most hopefully, you will too. Don't forget to review, I truly love all those that do.


"Yet mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell:

Disclaimer: Goodness, why would you want to sue me? I'm only stealing characters that were created by another human being who works day and night to feed their family, because I'm not creative enough for my own characters. So please don't hurt me! Give me a car instead! Cars are more fun than lawsuits, I promise. *grin*

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But for Us

An exciting tale by Melephant. Enjoy!

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"Yet mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell:  
It fell upon a little western flower,  
Before milk-white, now purple with love's wound,  
And maidens call it love-in-idleness.  
Fetch me that flower; the herb I shew'd thee once:  
The juice of it on sleeping eye-lids laid  
Will make or man or woman madly dote  
Upon the next live creature that it sees.  
Fetch me this herb; and be thou here again  
Ere the leviathan can swim a league.  
…Wait, remind me why we're reading Shakespeare again?"

"He's one of the greatest literary geniuses of all time."

"Right." Ron paused, and glanced back down to the book he was holding. "Ok, so remind me why we're reading Shakespeare again?" 

Hermione responded with a look of drained irritation. "Could you quit complaining? It would help if we could finish this soon, I'm getting tired. Everyone else has gone off to bed, so let's just finish it, enjoy it, and do the same." She pulled a blanket down from the back of the recliner she was seated in and pulled it around herself, her eyes drooping halfway. Her hair, long and wavy as it was, encircled her face with relaxed comfort. The nearby fire crackled with dying enthusiasm, as bits of the dancing red light reflected onto her hair, bringing out her ruby highlights. Ron stared. Not many people noticed how beautiful Hermione could really be. She gazed at him, apparently waiting for him to continue reading. He broke his momentary fixation and came to his senses. Looking down at his copy of A Midsummer Night's Dream, he squirmed slightly in his chair across the room, and began reading again.

"All right, let's see here…Having once this juice,  
I'll watch Titania when she is asleep,  
And drop the liquor of it in her eyes.  
The next thing then she waking looks upon,  
Be it on lion, bear, or wolf, or bull,  
On meddling monkey, or on busy ape,  
She shall pursue it with the soul of love:  
And ere I take this charm from off her sight,  
As I can take it with another herb,  
I'll make her render up her page to me." He stopped. "Doesn't this seem a bit cryptic to you? This chap has got some major control issues."

"Ron, we don't need the side comments. Honestly, I just read the *entire* first act to you. You're halfway through your first scene, and you're not bothering to focus."

"I know, I'm sorry. Why do we have to read this out loud, anyway?"

"Because Shakespeare is written to be read aloud. Also, it's romantic, and I thought it would be nice to reserve for our time alone together. Could you please just read?" Her voice wasn't threatening, but pleading. Ron actually did enjoy Shakespeare, he just didn't like the idea of anyone knowing it. And besides, who would want to read a story like this with a real fairy queen sitting just a dozen feet away? Well, in a manner of speaking.

"You know… there are a few more things we could reserve for our alone time." He grinned.

"Oh, don't start the raging teenage hormones running now. I'm too tired to fend them off at this hour." She smirked.

"Is that really such a bad thing?" Now he was the one pleading.

"Oh, shush. We need to finish this for Contemporary Wizard Literature, if I need remind you. I put this off for you, darling."

"This was written 400 years ago. Real contemporary."

"Literature on wizardry has been around for tens of thousands of years, you know that."

"Yeah, I know, but can't we just crack open a series about the supernatural that has actually been written since the time we were born? Why don't we get the excitement of reading the new Lord of the Rings edition? I want something famous that's being created here and now."

"Statistics prove that reading isn't as popular as it used to be."

"I'm sure you tip the scales a bit." he said with a smirk.

"All right, Mr. Slap-stick, we should keep reading. This is due tomorrow, after all."

"Oh, this needs to be finished by tomorrow? I must have missed that. I have this strange tendency to nod off exactly when Professor Skrib opens his mouth." He had enrolled in the class to spend time with Hermione, but old habits were hard to break.

"Which should give you all the more reason to focus on reading this, or your grades will be in a noose by the end of the week."

"According to your wonderful standards, at least." he muttered, eyeing a speckle on the floor he'd never noticed before.

"Speak up, dear, I can't hear you over there" she retorted. Ron glanced up at her, noticing her dancing highlights once again, and saw a small opportunity. Before Hermione could object, he charasmatically darted to where she was sitting.

"Well, I guess I'll just have to scootch over to get a little closer, then, little lady." he said in his best Clint Eastwood impression, as he lifted the blanket to incorporate himself into the chair with her, which was certainly large enough for the both of them.

"Ron – no – don't – I – you – please, just st-" but her words were blocked by another set of lips. She still resisted, and managed to push him away at an arm's length. Her eyes twinkled with mild annoyance. 

"Oh, bloody hell, Ron."

"What, isn't a guy allowed to snog his girl once in a while? I hardly think this is fair to my 'raging teenage hormones,' as you so put it. They have needs, too, you know." Her chocolate brown eyes gazed into his, and the muscles in her face relaxed to a soft smile.

"You are such an annoying little git, do you know that?" she said as she practically pounced on his face. Ron, surprised by the attack, jumped back, then slowly leaned into the kiss. 

However long they sat by the fire with their features entwined, he didn't know. It seemed like forever, and at the same time only an instant. However, Hermione would be very mad at him in the morning if they didn't finish what they had sat down to accomplish, so he broke away.

She stared at him for a moment, not really questioning him. The silence wasn't awkward or empty. In fact, it was quite the opposite. There was something so warm and comforting about that room at that moment with her eyes that awkwardness couldn't squeeze itself in if it tried. As much as they bickered, and as much as Hermione bossed him around, there was one thing that she could never hide from him, and that was the expression she was giving him right now. There was one thing and one thing only that Ron had learned about women, and that was women were not good at hiding love. At that moment, when he looked in her eyes, he saw love.

"Well, my tank is on 'full,' so shall we give this Shakespeare bloke another shot?" he said. Hermione looked at the book, then at Ron, and slowly nodded. He reached for the book, which he had brought over with him across the room.

He began to read again, and he didn't stop until the fire had died, and both of them had fallen asleep in the silence that surrounded them.

* * *

Drip. Drip. Drip. Pansy Parkinson sat alone in the drafty Slytherin common room; some infernal leak in the ceiling trickled in the corner. Well, she wasn't completely alone, for over her head hovered a small turquoise orb with beady blinking eyes that intently listened to her every word.

"I'm telling you, I just can't take it anymore. This is my seventh year here at Hogwarts, and what have I accomplished? Nothing. I'm lonely and unattractive and a loser, and I've got six months to do something before I'll be thrown out into the real world to be a lonely, unattractive loser. ...Ug. Is it possible that I'm being too hard on myself?" The orb seemed to bob up and down as if to nod. Pansy sighed. "You know, if I could just have one kiss. Just one kiss, and the whole world would be right again. This is my seventh year of chasing after him; doesn't it seem like I would deserve his affection by now? Is there something I've been doing wrong all this time?" She stared at the orb, noticing her small, distorted reflection on its metallic surface. She wasn't the prettiest girl in the world, she knew. Although, she had reached quite a contrast from when she started out here at Hogwarts just six years ago. Her original beefy figure had stretched out – vertically, that is – and she had made a subtle transition from small and thick to tall and well-proportioned. But it didn't matter. Not much mattered anymore, really. She turned her gaze back down to the gray stone floor. "I could stare into those smooth silver eyes all day if I had the chance." She, of course, was speaking of the charming, attractive, and debonair Draco Malfoy, the young man she had lusted after throughout all her years at school, and continued to do so. "The entire universe seems to brighten when I see him smile." she reflected. She looked again to the orb to watch it bob, and it spoke with a voice having a faint echo, perhaps sounding like it was under water.

"Well then, let's expand on that. Why do you think it makes you happy to see him smile?" The sound seemed to originate from the center of the orb. It blinked. Pansy pondered for a moment. 

"I don't know," she said, "he's just so... just so... charming, and-"

"Attractive and debonair?" the bubble had cut her off. Pansy wasn't sure if orbs were capable of sarcasm or not, but she knew she had said that before, perhaps more than once.

"I've said that before, haven't I?" she admitted. The orb then bobbed with a bit more enthusiasm. "Oh." She slouched down in the black velvet chair so that her feet beared her weight as they rested on the floor, preventing the rest of her from sliding off. The arm rests of the chair were solid silver, which were cold this time of night after the fire had burnt out. In her shifted position, she suddenly noticed how cold the untouched portions of the armrests were, and she crossed her arms over her chest in a pensive pout. She seemed to be spinning around in circles with these talks with her Therabubble. It was always the same thing on her mind: Draco, Draco, Draco - which she fully realized, of course. And she hated. She hated herself for being so foolish, but at the same time, couldn't help it. Over-analyzing situations was a frequent habit for her; the Therabubble simply aided as another voice outside the situation. She had realized a long time ago that her love for the suave blonde wasn't going to fade overnight, and while she strived to forget her fantasies, nothing seemed to offer relief. Her Therabubble had the ability to acquire certain personality traits, but all the same could not comprehend the concept of love, and offered little support. It was a bubble. A bloody stupid bubble. …She forced her thoughts outward.

"Um, we share similar interests, Dra-… he and I." She never spoke Draco's name out loud during these talks, for fear that someone might hear her. The other students rarely took interest in her personal affairs, even the other Slytherin girls. However, it was just a precaution. She could never afford him finding out about her feelings after all these years.

"Tell me about these similar interests."

"Well, I guess I take interest in his interests, and in turn, they are the same. For instance, I've learned to like Quidditch. And I'm very good in potions; that's his favorite class, so I always pay attention. He thinks Mr. Snape is a wonderful teacher." She began to whisper, and the orb flew a few inches closer to her head, "…I've even taken up a small interest in the dark arts…" she said, and returned to her normal boisterous voice. She kept talking before it could ask her anything about the subject whispered hushes were invented for. "Let's see here? What else is there? Oh, of course. Harry Potter. I hate Harry Potter." Someone hearing that sentence did not bother her. Perhaps not all of the Slytherins hated Potter with such vile passion that she or Draco carried, but disliking was somewhat of an accepted practice. Once again, the orb blinked. 

"Why do you hate this Harry Potter?"

"Why do I hate Harry Potter?! He's one of the most sickening little do-gooders on the face of the Earth. No matter what he does, he always manages to make Draco feel unhappy. If only there was something horrible I could do to Potter that would make Draco laugh and laugh..."

"Why do you feel that Harry Potter is such a 'do-gooder'?" But she ignored the orb.

"A torture potion?" she pondered, "Maybe something to eat away his skin? That could get rather messy, though. An invisible robe spell?" She chuckled at the thought. "Hmm, I wonder what I could do... but it has to be something truly viscious." She ran through hexes and charms in her mind, but none seemed to prove enough hell for Draco's own worst enemy. Just then, her train of thought was broken by some cheesy, echoing elevator music.

"I'm sorry Miss, but it's getting late, and our time seems to be up. You wouldn't want your parents complaining that you kept me too long, you know. Time is money, and I *am* a Therabubble" it mused. The music was probably coming from the same place in the orb as its voice did. She realized that it was getting a bit late, and with a sigh she decided that it was time to get off to bed. She disliked the orb, but she loved having someone there that would listen to her.

"Oh, thanks Bub." She stood up from the chair and stretched her arms out in front of her as she yawned. Walking over and taking one of the thin torches that lined the hallway, she turned towards the turquoise orb and called "Bubbliscious Pinoculus" so that the bubble popped, along with the end-of-session music that it was playing. As she turned, she heard a short sizzle and noticed that the leak in the ceiling had dripped on the torch, drenching her in darkness. "Can nothing go right?!" she yelled at the top of her lungs, which was responded to by what sounded like the flutter of disturbed bats echoing in the distance. She grudgingly tiptoed into her dorm room, where a couple other Slytherin girls breathed softly in their sleep. Taking out her wand, she transformed her clothing into her green snake pajama robes, and climbed into bed, lonely and tired.

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A/N: Stay tuned for the next exciting installment of But for Us, which I will upload momentarily, I certainly hope. New characters arrive, and there's lots of sexual innuendo. Now go read and review! I'll love you if you do. :)

*Melephant bows*


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